The Good Shephard
by roseateglow
Summary: Christian Shephard wants his son to follow in his footsteps, but Jack Shephard knows he has to draw the line somewhere, especially when it comes to her. AU Jate.
1. All the Best Cowboys Have Lady Issues

A/N: This is a pre-crash, alternative universe story with a much younger Jack and Kate that just kind of popped into my head a couple days ago and I've been non-stop writing it. Basically, that new Matt Damon movie "The Good Shepherd" inspired the whole thing. I mean, not the movie, just the title. I was thinking how I could connect that to Lost, and this story just started writing itself, and I just matched the title. Some events that are on the show will occur later in the story. The first part is set in Los Angeles, and later in New York. The dynamic duo just graduated high school, Jack is eighteen, Kate will be eighteen in a few. I hope that doesn't turn you off of the story. The first chapter is setting the scene up, things will happen in the next few chapters. Also, for those who don't live in the US, the SAT and ACTs are tests that measure your level of college preparedness. I hated taking them, and they're so biased, but oh well. R&R and enjoy. I've got the first couple chapters written, so I'll update in a day or so.

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So it was Columbia. And it pissed him off to no end. Four long years of studying his ass off day in and day out because that was what his parents expected out of him. Four long years of maybe hoping for a break, that all of this was for a reason. Sure, it had paid off. He was going to one of the top schools in the nation. But it wasn't the same. Not because he passed all of his advanced classes with A's, or because he'd scored a 34 on the ACTs, or a 2316 on the SATs. It didn't matter that he'd applied to–and been accepted at–Yale, Harvard and Dartmouth. It didn't matter that he'd pushed himself so hard for nothing, because his father knew the president of Columbia and his entry probably set in stone the moment he was born. It didn't matter that he'd sent a letter to UCLA and told them he'd accepted their offer and had made the decision to go there. It didn't matter, because his father had personally called the school and told them that his son had a prior obligation and wouldn't be attending their fine institution, but thanks anyway for offering.

"It's not fair," he said angrily to no one in particular. Even so, the girl next to him nudged him gently with her shoulder. He sighed, breaking out of his reverie to give her a half-hearted smile. She leaned against him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, Jack." She said quietly. The two of them sat on the hood of his car on the hill that overlooked their high school football field below. They came here because it was well-lit by the field's lighting, but quiet, secluded. This place had special meaning to them. They'd shared their first kiss up here, and she'd lost her virginity to him one warm summer's evening in the backseat of his Fiat. They could talk here, long after the sun set against the backdrop of downtown Los Angeles.

"He's doing this just to piss me off," he stated. She was quiet for a moment, and he knew that she was preparing to change the subject.

"I can't believe we graduate in a week,"

"Kate–"

"I mean, it seems like just yesterday we were sitting down there in those stands listening to Rossum tell us about what it means to be a freshman. And now–we'll be walking out of that field and into the auditorium, and across the stage. Getting our diplomas." She had an almost dreamy look in her eyes, and he had to smile at that. His watch beeped, letting him know it was close to eight. He hopped off the car and helped her down, opening her door for her.

"And they say chivalry is dead," she teased. He rolled his eyes at her and shut her door, before going around to open his own and slide into the driver's seat, keying the ignition and backing slowly down the path and through the school's parking lot as he made his way onto the main road.

"Wanna come over for dinner? Mom's making chicken cacciatore."

"Will you stop trying to make me eat meat?" She told him. "It's not going to happen."

"What, you coming over or eating meat?"

Her face turned sour. "Both. Your parents hate me, Jack. Don't act so surprised."

"They don't hate you, Kate. It's not like that," he told her. He was lying, and they both knew it. He didn't know what it was about Kate that they disliked so much: the fact that she was from a poor, white-trash family, or because Jack was actually dating her despite this, or because his high-school relationship was better than their husband-and-wife relationship. He made a fist with his right hand and hit the dashboard, furious at them both. They didn't understand, because their marriage had never been anything less than a chore.

"Shit," he hissed, shaking his now-throbbing hand. She gave him a reproachful look and silence filled the car for a few moments.

"It's why he's sending you to Columbia, Jack." She said suddenly, wrapping her thin arms around herself insecurely. "To get you away from me."

"It's because it's his alma mater, Kate. He just wants me to follow in his footsteps. Be all I can fucking be. And I don't want to be a doctor."

"He wants us to be apart. Because if we're apart, he thinks you'll find someone else. Someone richer, and prettier and better."

"I don't care how rich the girls there are. I don't care what they look like. You're the prettiest girl I've ever met. You're the prettiest girl I'll _ever meet_."

"Yeah, you can say that now, but wait until you get there and there are girls who are much better looking."

"So come with me," he said bluntly as he made the turn into his neighborhood.

She straightened up, and blinked, staring at him as though she hadn't really heard him properly. "What?"

"To New York. Come with me to New York. He doesn't have to know. You turn eighteen in a couple weeks, and I don't have to leave until early August. We've got plenty of time to plan this. You can tell your mom you're going with your dad when he leaves for Germany. He'll cover for you, I'm sure he would."

"Jack–this is ridiculous. Where would I live? I don't even have a job now. You know how expensive it is to buy an apartment there? What would I do about food?"

"Relax. Look, my dad used his connections to get me into an apartment. Usually, freshman have to stay on campus their first year. He pulled strings. Said he didn't want me to live in a dorm and have constant distractions. Parties, girls," he laughed. "As if those don't exist if I have my own place. And you could stay there with me. Everything is already covered. You've got a place to stay, food, anything. As long as he doesn't know you're there with me, he'll keep sending the money. Kate, we could do this, I'm serious.."

She still looked skeptical. "I guess–we could _try_ it. But–won't your parents come to help you move in?"

"We'll just ask your dad if he'll help us out. Maybe the two of you can fly in the next day and stay in a hotel until my parents leave. Then he can go on to Germany, and you'll stay with me."

"You think this will work?"

"Kate, he'd do anything for you, you know that. Why wouldn't he agree?"

"Not my dad. I mean–this. This whole plan."

"It will. We'll make it work." He pulled into his driveway and turned off the ignition, digging his hands into his pockets, then turning to her, eyes serious. "We could...play house. Maybe even for real some day,"

It took her a moment to realize that he was sliding a tiny diamond ring on her finger. She gasped, clutching his arm tightly. "Oh my god, Jack."

"Kate, these past two years have gone by in a blur. I know this–well, sudden. I just wanted to do this now, and do it right. We're kids, I know, but–I think this is as serious as it's going to get."

"I–I–Jack, I don't know what to say..."

"How about, 'Yes' for starters?"

"Yes. Yes, Jack."

"You'll marry me?"

"I'll marry you."

He leaned over and kissed her. She put her hand on his cheek, and he could tell she was trembling. And then he realized she was crying.

"Hey," he pulled back to look at her. "It's okay. I'm going to take care of you."

"I know. I'm not crying because I'm sad."

"Come on, let's go eat." He grabbed his keys and got out of the car, and started for her door, but she got out of the car before he could get around to her side. She met him at her door, and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her head in his chest. He hugged her, kissed the top of her head and smiled down at her.

"Kate,"

She looked up at him, grinning. "Jack,"

"Let go,"

"You let go,"

"I'm not letting go, Kate."

"Jack!"

"Kate!"

"Jack!" But the voice didn't belong to Kate. The porch light was suddenly on, and his mother was standing in the doorway, her coat clutched in her hand. He let Kate go then, but took her hand and held it firmly. He knew that in tense moments like these, her first instinct was to get away. He wasn't going to let her. From the light, Jack could see the look on his mother's face was something of disgust at the two of them. At moment later, his father appeared, with his own coat, as he shut the front door behind them.

"Your mother and I are going out to eat," he said, walking past them, barely acknowledging Jack, and paying no attention at all to Kate.

"What about dinner? Mom, I thought you were making–"

"No. We're going out. There should be something in the freezer for you to warm up."

"Order a pizza," his dad said, getting into the driver's seat. He noticed his father never opened the door for his mother anymore. Once his mother was inside, the SUV tore out of the driveway and down the street in to the distance.

Jack stood, dumbfounded, staring after them. He felt a tug at his wrist, and realized Kate was trying to pull him back to his car.

"Just take me home," she said stiffly. Instead, he pulled her up to his front door, and inside his house. The solid smell of baked chicken and vegetables hit his nose the moment they stepped inside. Kate reluctantly allowed him to drag her into the kitchen.

The oven was empty. The microwave was empty. In the sink, a dirty pan sat, steam still rising faintly from the surface. In the trash can, were the remains of the chicken cacciatore. He bent down to pick up a piece of the chicken near the top. It was still piping hot in his fingers. He dropped the chicken back into the trash and raised his head to look out the kitchen window. His car was in plain view. And his mother, his goddamn mother.

"Goddamnit!" He aimed a well-placed kick at the garbage, prompting Kate to utter a frightened scream and back up against the wall. He was bristling with anger and he wanted to throw something, punch a wall. Punch his father. He hated them both.

The soft whimper from behind him softened his resolve. He turned to Kate, who was looking at him with a mix of emotions, tears in her eyes. He sighed heavily, moving toward her. To his surprise, she backed away from him.

"I want to go home," her voice quavered.

"Kate, please." He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He had expected to come home to a hot meal. He knew she was right, that his parents were pushing them apart, trying to drive a wedge between them.

"I want to go home," she repeated, firmly now, her hands clenched into fists at her side. He took a step toward her and saw her tense.

"Don't do this to me, Kate. Not you, not now."

"You do this, you get so violent, and I don't want to be here to deal with that."

"I'm not violent. I'm just pissed off at my poor excuse for a family."

"You don't know how good you have it," she muttered.

"Yeah, Kate, my parents are amazing compared to yours. At least your mom cares enough about you to call you up on her breaks to tell you she loves you. At least your dad values your opinion enough to let you choose where you want to go to school."

"Yeah, at least my stepdad hates me enough to knock me around once in a while when he gets drunk enough. Real perfect. At least your parents are providing you with the best education. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly Harvard-material, and your parents hate me for it.."

"God, don't bring the money thing into this. As if that's my fucking fault? As if it's my fault that my parents have issues with your whole money situation."

"At least my parents actually _like_ you," she fired back. "At least they don't look like someone just shoved a rotten piece of meat under their nose every time they seem me. At least when you come over, my dad treats you with respect, and my mom is always polite. Your parents look at me like I'm dirt. Maybe you do too. Dating me because you feel sorry for me?"

"Kate–"

"I'm not good enough, am I? Not for your parents, not for you. We can't all be rich doctor's sons, Jack. We can't all have the best school supplies and the little polo jackets. Some people have to _work_ for a living. Some people can't afford to go to a top-of-the-line college, so they have to accept what they can get."

"Oh, so now you're accusing me of not appreciating what I do have?"

"When was the last time you had to shop at the Salvation Army or Goodwill, because your mom barely makes enough to pay the bills with her eight dollar-an-hour job at the diner, and your dad is away in some foreign country on military business, and your stepdad doesn't do anything but sit on his lazy ass and get drunk? When was the last time you had to stand in line to get government welfare or food stamps just to eat, because all the grocery money had to go to the bills? Until high school, everything I owned belonged to someone else first. And I'm _sick_ of it, Jack. I'm sick of getting everyone else's leftovers. I don't want your mother's goddamn engagement ring!" She screamed, pulling it off her finger and throwing it at him. He caught it, staring at it, bewildered.

"Kate, it's not–"

"Don't, just...just _don't_."

And just like that, she was gone.


	2. The Long Conversation

A/N: Thanks for the nice reviews :) I'm glad my story has piqued interest! Here's chapter two. Chapter three should be coming along tomorrow or Wednesday. Can't believe we've got less than a month until new Lost now! I'm so excited!!

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It rained nearly every day the following week. He was thankful that seniors got this last week off. Having to see Kate every day would have been way too much for him to deal with. On Sunday, a full week after their fight, and the night before their graduation ceremony, as the rain beat down furiously outside, he sat in his bedroom, throwing a tennis ball at the wall. The dent he wanted to make wasn't making much progress. He wondered vaguely why his parents hadn't thrown their party yet. They had to be celebrating his and Kate's break-up somehow. He wondered if they had opened the champagne. Might as well start following in his father's footsteps somehow.

"Jack, dinner!" His mother called from the stair. He slowly pulled himself off the bed and dragged himself down the stairs into the dining room. His mother placed the plate in front of him, and he just stared at it. He hadn't been in the mood for family dinners at all during the week. Since his father was usually gone by the time he woke up, and worked long hours, the whole family usually only ate late dinners together. They always used dinner to put up the facade of the happy family time. It had never particularly fooled Jack, but this week, it was grating his nerves. He was hungry–starving–but he'd eat later, on his own time. He had enough listening to his parents and their small talk.

"You'll love Columbia, Jack. My alma mater. Of course, you can always come back to UCLA for your residency, like I did. You just need a fresh start. Lots of things for you to do and see in New York. Shame you have to go to a school in New York. We've always been Red Sox men, Jack. Your grandfather almost made pitcher, until he fractured his spine. It's what made me want to be a spinal surgeon."

"You've told me that a thousand times, Dad. It's getting a little old."

His father ignored him. "I've always thought it was, well, odd, that my grandfather went to Columbia, but was such a Sox fan. They may never win the World Series, but they're a damn good team nonetheless. You wouldn't even try out for your high school team. No sense of teamwork, I keep telling you."

"Bullshit," Jack said, not sure himself whether he meant baseball or what his father said about him. There was a moment of silence, and his father stumbled over his words for a moment, then composed himself, and went right on asking his mother how her day was. Jack sighed. He hated this small talk that his father tried to put on at dinner. A part of him realized, only a year ago, that it was his father's attempt to pretend everything was alright. Pretend you had a hard day at work, make small talk, smooze the wife and son, and all your troubles will fly away. Jack wondered if his father even knew that Jack knew about his affair with his secretary. As horrible as Jack knew it was, he couldn't bring himself to tell his mother. Jack knew that she turned the other way when his father smiled at pretty girls. She wouldn't believe it, but the knowledge that Jack knew would be too much for her, make it all the more real and harder to ignore. So he didn't tell her, and he let her believe that all his father did was smile at them, not bend them over his desk and ask if they could keep a secret.

After a few moments of ignoring to his father, Jack began to pick at the steak and mashed potatoes on his plate. His mother sighed again, like she had in previous days that week.

"Jack, eat your dinner."

"Not hungry," he muttered, piling at the mashed potatoes like a mountain on the plate.

His father's fork clattered on his plate as Christian Shephard adjusted himself to turn and look at his son. "So you think you're going to sneak down here at three in the morning and get some cereal or microwave some popcorn?"

"No,"

"Come on, Jack. This makes absolutely no sense. You can't just sit here and mope over this girl. Let it go, Jack. It's been a week. I warned you about getting too involved. If you were older, it would be different, but you're sitting here, eighteen years old, not even in college yet, moping over some damn lost relationship. We all saw this coming. Forget it, and forget her."

Jack flattened the potato mountain without a word.

"Goddamnit, Jack, what is wrong with you?" His father leaned over to grab his shoulder and shake him roughly. Jack let his fork drop, let his father shake him.

"Leave him alone, Christian," his mother said indifferently. "If he won't eat, he won't eat. That's what they make Pop-Tarts for."

"Go to your room," Christian bellowed, bringing his fist down on the table. Jack stared at his plate. What was he, in elementary school? Being sent to his room? This got him laughing, and he found he couldn't stop, until he was sure he'd inevitably start crying if he kept it up. His father was looking at him like he was insane.

"Jack, I think it's time for you to leave the table."

Jack, shaking with silent laughter he was trying to surpress, didn't budge. His father stood, moved over to him and pushed him roughly from the chair. So it was serious now, and Jack wasn't laughing anymore. His father looked him square in the eye, and for a moment, father and son stared each other down. Jack hadn't realized that he was a full two inches taller than his father until now. He wasn't going to give, and neither was his father. It wasn't until he felt his mother's hands pushing against his back.

"Go. Don't upset him." She pushed him out of the dining room, toward the front hall, that he gave up, walking resignedly up the stairs, and back to his tennis ball.

The phone rang at 9:30, and Jack ignored it. When he heard his dad's voice downstairs as he answered the phone, he stopped throwing the ball to listen. Maybe it was Kate. He hoped his dad would chew her out.

"Jack, pick it up!" His father called from somewhere downstairs. Jack picked up the phone on his bedside table.

"Hello?"

"Jack?" It was a man's voice, one that sounded very familiar. "This is Sam Austen."

Her father. For a moment, Jack's heart skipped a beat. Maybe Kate told him about their breakup. Maybe he was going to threaten him. He knew her dad was an army guy, and there were times when he felt intimidated by him. "Yeah, uh...hi?"

"Is Katie there with you?"

"No. I haven't seen her in a week. We broke up last Sunday."

There was a heavy silence on the other line. "Oh. I see. She came by my house to drop off some of her things, and said she needed to stay with me for a while. She went to pick up some things from her mother's on Thursday, and told me she'd be back soon, but she hasn't come back. Her mother said she left that evening, but we haven't heard anything. I'm just worried. I just thought–she might be there with you."

A pang of guilt hit Jack square in the chest. He had been a downright asshole to her, and now she was missing, and a part of him couldn't help wondering if it was somehow his fault. "I–I'll look for her. I think I know where she might be. I'll let you know if I find her."

"Thank you, son. You know, she was such a mess when she came over here. She loves you a great deal. If you find her, well, if I were you, I'd try and patch things up. It's not worth it for the two of you to be over like this."

"Thanks, Mr. Austen. I'll keep that in mind. I'll call you back if I find her." He hung up the phone, and immediately pulled on his shoes and grabbed his keys, taking the stairs three at a time as he went down.

As he passed the living room on his way out the door, his father barely glanced up from the paper. "Are you going after her?"

"What, are you listening in on my phone conversations now?"

"Your father's right, Jack," his mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "It's not worth it."

He stared back and forth at the two of them. Not worth it? She was missing–and for all he knew, dead somewhere. This was his fault, and he had to make this right. He had to fix this. Even if she wouldn't take him back (and who could blame her) he wanted to make sure she was okay.

The doorbell rang, and he was relieved that it had helped end the tense moment. Jack moved toward the door and turned the front porch light on as the person outside began to knock furiously.

"Hold on! Shit," he murmured as he struggled with the lock. He pulled the door open and was immediately jumped by a small, soaking wet and trembling figure. He kicked the door shut and managed to pry his assaulter back.

It was Kate. She was shaking so badly that he reached onto the coat rack and pulled his letter jacket around her shoulders. The raindrops on her face mixed in with her own tears, and she gave him a desperate look before she once again wrapped her arms around him, not letting go.

"I knew she'd come crawling back," his father scoffed, going back to his paper. His mother was looking at Kate disdainfully, and he knew it wasn't just over the water she'd dripped all over the carpet when she came in.

Jack managed to extricate himself from her hold and force her to look at him.

"Where the hell have you been? Your dad called, he said your mother told him you ran off."

She made a sobbing noise, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt when he wouldn't let her embrace him again. "Jack–"

Her voice was so shaky, he knew immediately something had happened.

"What is it? Kate, what happened? What did you do?"

Her eyes darted to his parents on either side of them. He took her hand and pulled her up the stairs. His parents watched him in shock, but said nothing. Jack led her into his bedroom, shutting the door and easing her into a sitting position. He let her cry on his shoulder for a few minutes, and once she'd calmed down, he finally blurted out, "Kate, what happened?"

She reached into the back of her jeans and pulled out–Christ, he gasped–a gun. He stiffened, jumped back to stare at her.

"Kate, what the hell did you do?"

"I killed him, Jack. I killed my father."


	3. What Kate Did

_Thanks for the wonderful reviews, guys! This chapter contains implied rape/incest and a brief indirect mention of abortion, so you can skip that part if it makes you feel uncomfortable.  
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"No," he stammered, running a nervous hand through his close cropped hair. "No, Kate, that can't be right, I just talked to him on the phone, not even five minutes ago."

"Not Sam. Wayne. I–I–I–" Her voice cracked. He saw her retch, and grabbed his trash can, holding it under her mouth with one hand, and her hair back with the other. When she finished, she gave him a weak smile.

"I never thought you'd ever have to do this for me,"

"Kate, what happened?" He asked, not really in the mood to joke around. She took a deep breath.

"Last week, after our fight, I went to my dad's for a couple days. I told him I was going with him to Germany. I'm going now, since we're not–" she looked down at the gun in her hands to avoid his eyes. "I went back to my mom's on Thursday, to get some stuff. I asked my mom for my birth certificate, so I get a passport. She just started crying, and Wayne told me to get out. So I left. I didn't want to go back to my dad's because I knew they'd come looking for me there. So I went to the only other place I could think of–your basement. I just opened the window and I've been down there since Thursday night, and you had no idea. I just needed a place to cool off. I went back to my mom's earlier today to pick up some stuff. Clothes, my birth certificate, pictures. Our stuff. I was looking around for my birth certificate, and I found this box under my mom's mattress. My birth certificate was in there, Jack. My birth certificate, and a picture of the man I believed, for almost eighteen years, was my real father."

"Wait, Kate, what? I don't understand–Sam?"

"He's not my biological father," she said bluntly. "He was in Holland, Jack. Until three months before I was born, he was in Holland. I guess he found out she was pregnant, so he wrote her a letter while he was there, asking her whose it was. She was writing him back, but she never sent it. She kept my birth certificate, those pictures from Holland, his letter, and her letter. She kept them all in that box, and Jack, I don't think she was ever going to tell me. Wayne's my father, Jack." She cradled the gun against her chest, shaking again. "He's my father, and I couldn't--

The telephone rang, making them both jump. He grabbed it before his parents could, just in case it might be the police, calling about Kate. He didn't need his parents to know about this.

"Hello?"

"Jack, this is Sam Austen. I–"

"Hey, Mr. Austen, I've got Kate with me. Just found her. She's been hiding in our basement since Thursday. My dad has this old tent down there, she was sleeping on the mattress." He immediately winced. He was probably going to have to lie for her, and his parents only knew she'd come in from the pouring rain, not up the basement stairs.

"Something's happened at Diane's," Sam said, and Jack could hear the squeal of fire trucks in the background. "Bring Katie with you and meet me here." Sam hung up before Jack had a chance to respond. He hung up the phone and looked back at Kate, who was watching him with wide eyes.

"Does he know?" She asked him. He shook his head.

"He said something happened at your mom's. Kate, there were fire trucks. I know what an ambulance sounds like. I can tell the difference. You didn't just shoot him, did you?"

She broke eye contact, but he made her look at him. "What did you do?"

"He came in when I was leaving. He just kind of grabbed me and he–he–he said I was beautiful. And before, when he was just my stepfather, I was disgusted by it, because I just thought he was a pervert. But he wasn't just my stepfather, he was my real father, and that made it worse. I tried to get away, Jack, I really did, but he was just too strong. He held my arms, and then before I even knew what had happened, he had me on the bed. The bed where he and my mom sleep. Where they–" She stopped, her crying growing worse than before. He put an arm around her, and hugged her. He wanted her to get all of this out before they left and she had to face the police. He wanted time to form an alibi for her, if it came down to that.

She finally calmed down enough to continue. "He pinned my arms down, and he held my legs down with his knees. He just started kissing me. His breath–he was so drunk. He tasted like beer and cigarettes, and I was so sick. He tried to take my shirt off, and I panicked. I wouldn't let him. And then, he had a gun. He pointed it at me and he told me that if I wouldn't let him do it, he was going to make me strip for him. Or he'd kill me. And he was going to do it, Jack. It was that look in his eyes," she gave a shuddering sob, but went on. "So I did what he told me. I just wanted to get it over with. My shirt, my pants. He was getting impatient, I could tell. I was trying to get my bra off, and I kept missing the clasps, and I remember crying, but he didn't stop. He put the gun on the table and he just pulled my bra off, and his shirt was off, and then I remember he was–he kept touching me. He was so close to me, I could _feel it_, Jack. It was there, and I felt it there and I knew. It hadn't hit me then. Maybe he just wanted to touch me. I didn't think he would–I don't remember how my underwear got off, if it was him or me. I closed my eyes, but he said he'd shoot me if I didn't keep them open, didn't look at him. He told me to take his pants off. I unbuckled his belt, and I just pulled them off. And then he–"

Jack held up his hand. He didn't want to hear anymore. She looked pale and like she wanted to throw up again, and he was afraid he would get sick himself if she kept going. She gave him a relieved look.

"So, he raped you?" He asked. She nodded. "Was that the only time he's ever done it?"

"He did it three times, Jack. The first time, and then again, and again. I don't know how he could–but he did. And then he just kind of fell asleep. I went to the bathroom and I took a shower. I was in there for an hour, trying to get him out of me. I got dressed, I got my bags, I put them outside. Then I went back in and he was sitting there, on the bed, I shot him. I shot him three times, because of what he'd done to me three times, and he just fell down. And I panicked, because I knew they could find out it was me, so I went into the kitchen and I found the lighter fluid and I just made a trail through the house, and around his bed. I turned the gas stove on, and I took the box of matches from the kitchen and I went outside, around the house and opened his bedroom window, lit the matches, and threw them in. Then I ran. The bedroom was already on fire from the lighter fluid, and I didn't want to be around when it hit the gas. So I ran, and that's when I got here. Jack, I had to kill him. It wasn't just because he raped me. It was because he _knew_ and he did it anyway. It's because he's a part of me, and that he would do that to me, knowing I was his daughter. Knowing that kind of man is my father. I couldn't deal with that. I had to do it."

"Did he use–you know. Protection? I mean–"

She shook her head, and he felt his stomach flip-flop. So she could get pregnant.

"He didn't, but it's okay," she said, catching his eye. "We learned in health class a couple years ago that you could only get pregnant in between your periods. Mine starts in three or four days, give or take. I wouldn't keep it, Jack. A baby that would be my child and my brother or sister too? I couldn't handle that, there's no way I could keep it."

"Why did you keep the gun, Kate?" He asked her curiously, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the way the conversation was heading. She opened the chamber and let the remaining bullets drop into her hand.

"I thought I might need it. If I saw someone."

"Did anyone see you?"

She shook her head.

They sat in silence for a moment, before Jack glanced at his watch. "We need to go."

"Go where?"

"Your mom's. Your d–Sam's waiting for you. We need to tell the police–"

"Tell them that I'm a murderer?" She asked, her face stony. He shook his head.

"We'll tell them that we had a fight last week. That you went to Sam's. That you went to your mom's, and got your stuff, and brought it here. We'll tell them that you slept in my basement, because I told you almost a year ago that when things get bad, and Wayne hits you, you can go to our basement if I'm not at home, and cool off. We'll tell them that you were going to tell your mom that you were leaving with Sam, and you saw the house was on fire, and you ran back here, and that's and that's why my parents saw you burst in here soaking wet and sobbing."

"And the gun?"

He took it from her, and the bullets, and immediately moved to his closet. Long ago, when he was a kid, he'd loosed a floorboard and kept things hidden inside. It was mostly empty now, save for an old baseball and his money tin. He reloaded the bullets first, then carefully lowered the gun, pushing it back into the shadows, convenient in case he ever needed one, but carefully hidden so that anyone who discovered the floorboard wouldn't notice it unless they reached back.

He straightened and shut the closet door quietly. "If they found his body, I don't think they'll know he was shot. Still, we're not taking any chances."

He came over to her and held out a hand. She took it, and let him pull her to her feet. She stood there a moment, looking at him, searching his eyes. He returned the gaze, and slowly nodded at her. "Ready?"

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, let it go, and opened them. "Ready,"

Keeping a firm grip on her hand, he pulled open the door. Instead of an empty hallway, they were greeted by someone nearly stumbling into them, from where their ear had previously been pressed against the door. The figure straightened, and looked at the two of them in shock.

Jack was speechless for a moment, until he finally managed, "Mom?"  
---  
_Just how much did Margo Shephard hear? Stay tuned, and make sure to review! Since this chapter ended up so short, I'll post the next one right after. Up next, Kate is questioned by a familiar character, and the dynamic duo gain the first of their two valuable allies._


	4. The Whole Truth, and Everything But

"How much did you hear?" Jack demanded angrily. His mother looked weak somehow, like she wasn't sure how to react. She put her hand on her heart, and shook her head.

"Everything. I came up here to find out if she was staying for dinner, and I heard you yelling, and then I heard her say she killed–"

"Mom," he warned, his concern for Kate evident in his tone.

Her eyes flickered to Kate, and Jack was almost taken aback when he saw what looked like pity in his mother's eyes. She reached out a hand to gripped Kate's shoulder.

"You've done things to my son," she said quietly. "When he talked about you, his eyes were always so bright. He's been so upset this week. I've never seen him look so low. It hurts me to see him like this, especially when I think that I was part of the cause. I've never treated you like anything other than trailer park trash and–"

"Mom," this time, his voice was more embarrassed pleading than anything. She gave him an almost warm smile, and went on, turning back to Kate.

"I want to apologize to you. Invariably, I see that Jack is smart enough to decide that money isn't everything. He doesn't care about that. He isn't the type of young man who sees a person for what they are on the outside, but on the inside. I suppose that's why he's so hard on his father."

"Mom, we're in a hurry," he said, wanting her to get to whatever point she was trying to make so they could leave and get this over with.

"I wasn't prepared to understand your situation until I heard what happened to you. I didn't realize how bad it was for you. I understand now why Jack wants to protect you. No one should have to go through that. I would hate to see you get throw in jail because of it. Were I you, I think I would have made the same choices. If you will accept my help, I'll do all I can to make sure the two of you can stay together."

She was directing her question to Kate, and Jack took a second to realize that twice tonight, on two separate occasions, two people had basically told him that his and Kate's relationship was something much more than just a high-school fling, that they really were undeniably in love. He realized that he'd never apologized to her for their fight, and through all they'd just been through, he had never even commented on the status of their relationship. Yet he knew it wasn't over. He knew that before she'd even told him her story, that ever-present urge to protect her kicked into gear, and he knew he'd do anything to help her, as her boyfriend or not.

"If you need my help, please, don't hesitate. If you need anything, a plan–"

"We already have a plan, Mom." He said, a little annoyed and a little put-off with her sudden friendliness. "Thank you, seriously, but we really need to–"

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and whoever was pressing it did it urgently. Kate tightened her grip on Jack's hand as he led her to the stairs.

"Don't," he whispered, as she tried to move back into his bedroom. "Wait."

"Christian, please answer that!" Margo called as the three of them started down. As his father got to the door, he turned to look at them.

"Why in the hell did you make me get up when you were on your way down here?" He asked angrily, opening the door.

Two uniformed policemen entered, without waiting for anyone to invite them in.

"Evening. My name is Lieutenant Banks, and this is my partner, Lieutenant Mars. We need to ask some questions, if that's alright."

Jack noted that Mars, a thin man with dark brown, army-cut hair was holding a pair of handcuffs, and he knew Kate had seen them once he felt her fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. He winced, but did not let go. When the man saw her, he moved forward, cuffs out and open.

"Katherine Austen, you are under arrest for the murder of Wayne Jensen. Any–"

"No!" Jack jumped in front of her, holding his arm out.

"What in the hell is going on?" His father demanded. "You come into my house accusing people of murder?"

"Get out of the way, kid." Mars said impatiently. Jack didn't budge.

"She didn't do anything! She's been over here since Thursday, you can ask her parents. We got in a fight, the two of us. We broke up last week, so she went to stay with her dad. She got in a fight with her mom on Thursday, so she came here. I told her once, a long time ago she could come and stay in our basement if she needed a place to cool down."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"I went down to get some wine on Saturday. I saw her sleeping." Jack's mother said. She had gone to the basement, but from the unsure expression on her face, he knew that she hadn't seen Kate down there when she went. "I didn't want to say anything, because I figured it was none of my business."

"Strange girl sleeping in your basement, and that's none of your business?"

"She's my son's girlfriend," his mother said, as if that explained everything.

"The boy just said they'd broken up," the thin officer stated. "What is the status of your relationship?"

"We're–dating. She's my girlfriend." He had nearly slipped and said they were engaged, but that had been only briefly last week. Even if they were essentially back together now, he didn't think he wanted to mention they were engaged when he wasn't even sure about their current relationship anyway. And that little fact he didn't plan on mentioned to his parents even when they had been.

"A fight with her mother?" Lieutenant Banks repeated, jotting it down in a notebook. "Motive?" He glanced at Mars, who shrugged and turned to Kate.

"What was the fight about?"

"I'm going to Germany with my dad in August. I needed a passport, so I went over there on Thursday and asked her for my birth certificate. She just started crying. It wasn't really a fight, she just got upset, so my stepdad told me to get out. So I did. I left. I waited until they were asleep and I went and got my stuff, found my birth certificate. Then I brought it over here. Jack didn't know I was in the basement. We weren't speaking–so..." she trailed off, glancing at Jack apologetically.

"Your stepfather yell at you when he told you to get out?"

"I don't remember. Maybe, maybe not."

"He ever hit you? Push you around? Maybe sweet talk you? He ever come knocking on your door late at night?"

At this, Kate buried her face in Jack's shirt and he could feel it dampening from her tears.

"You're upsetting her,"

"Feeling a little guilty, is she?" He knew the man was just taunting her, taunting them both.

"Leave her alone,"

"How often did he come knocking on your door?"

Before Jack knew what he was doing, his fist flew through the air and caught the man square in the jaw.

The other officer drew his gun from the holster. His partner recovered quick enough, and returned the favor by nearly breaking Jack's nose. Jack was only stopped from jumping at the man by the combined efforts of Kate and his parents. He wiped the blood from his nose and glared at the man. The officer may have been skinny, but his hit was powerful. His nose hurt like hell, and the pain made it feel as good as broken.

"That's enough, Lieutenant Mars!" Banks stepped forward, putting his gun back in the holster and forcing Mars, to take a step back.

"Excuse me," Mars said, speaking more to Jack's parents than to either him or Kate.

"Officer, you have just accused my son's girlfriend of murder, and when my son tries to protect her, you retaliate. You've come into my home, attempting to arrest a seventeen-year-old girl, assulting an eighteen-year-old boy. I could, and probably should press charges on you. I want you out of my house in the next minute."

"We're going to have to take the girl–"

"Like hell you are," Jack spat, keeping a grip on Kate. She touched his arm to let him know that it was alright, and moved to sit one stair above him and slightly to the side.

"Why were you wet?" That voice belonged to Christian, who was looking at Kate with a sudden realization. "You rang our doorbell and came in here dripping wet. If you were in the basement, why in the hell would you come through the front door."

There was silence for a moment. Jack remembered explaining that to her, and he hoped she still remembered. She closed her eyes and took a breath.

"I went home. I went to tell my mom I was leaving. I couldn't stay there anymore, I was just going to get a few things, and come back here and get my stuff and go stay with my dad. I went out the window in the basement, like I always do, and I went home. I saw that the house was on fire, and I panicked. So I ran back here. I thought I could call the fire department, but I was just–I thought my mom was in there. I thought maybe she said something about me, and he got mad at her. He was always yelling at her over something, or hitting her. I hated being so helpless when he'd do it. He broke her arm once and I..."

Jack elbowed her discreetly, indicating she should stop before she went too far.

"You what?" Mars pressed. Jack knew perfectly well what. Wayne had pushed her mother into a wall, so Kate, only twelve then, had protected her mother by throwing a full beer can at Wayne's head. He hoped she wouldn't admit this, because it would do more damage to her than it would help.

"I–I locked myself in my room. I could hear him yelling at her, and I just put a pillow over my head. Every time they fought, I was usually the cause, and I would never try to make things better. At first, I just blamed her for staying with him, but now I realize it was me, that I was the reason for all their problems. I thought maybe if I left for good, they'd be happy together. I didn't want to ruin things for them. Is he really dead?"

Jack tried hard to keep his face from betraying his surprise at how easily she had come up with that lie. Mars was scrutinizing Kate's face, searching for any emotion. Jack didn't dare look back at her, but he reached back with his hand, and she took it. He squeezed reassuringly, to let her know he was still there for her.

Banks nodded. "The fire crew found his remains in what's left of the master bedroom."

"Didn't the rain do anything at all?" Margo asked, the first time she had spoken in a while. Jack jumped at her voice; he'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Much of the fire was inside the house," the notebook-holding officer said, "and by the time it reached the outside, I believe it was too late to salvage anything."

"Quite a coincidence," Mars said, eyeing Kate with a smirk. "That you got all your stuff out before it burned, and your poor mother lost everything."

"I got my clothes, my papers. My mom keeps all of her stuff in her purse. And I didn't get all of my stuff. My grandparents gave my mom a lot of stuff when they passed away. It's gone. My baby dolls, my toys. Most of my baby pictures. My christening gown. My great-great-grandmother brought a glass ballerina and a porcelain tea set with her when she came to America. She gave them to her daughter, my great-grandmother, who gave them to my grandmother, who gave them to my mom, who gave them to me. I wanted to give them to my daughter someday–" here, she squeezed Jack's hand "–and now I never will. I didn't lose anything? I lost memories. Things that will never be replaced." The tears he heard in her voice, and when he finally turned, saw running down her cheeks, he realized, were not a part of her act. The full consequences of what she had done were finally sinking in. She had gotten rid of Wayne and destroyed the evidence. But at the same time, she had destroyed all of her childhood memories, her family heirlooms, things that no amount of money could get back. It hit her in a rush, and Jack moved up a step to sit next to her and comfort her.

"And yet no remorse for the dead stepfather. Shame,"

Jack was reaching the end of his tether with this Lieutenant Mars. He started to stand up, intent on showing this man a thing or two, but his father once again stepped in.

"I really think this quite unnecessary," Christian said firmly. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Come back if you get a warrant to arrest this girl, and if you return again without one, I will alert the higher authorities. I hope I'm making myself clear. You've caused enough distress to both of them, and to my wife and I as well. I won't ask you again: leave. Now."

The two men, without any further comment, left.  
---  
_Next chapter, the ride to Kate's mother's house (or what's left of it) where something is reestablished, and Kate confronts her mother about what she knows._


	5. House of the Rising Smoke

A/N - Gah! Look at me, back from beyond the cyber-grave! Firstly, let me apolgize for my sudden and unexplained absence and lack of updates. Around the time I perished in shadow and flame, my second semester of college began and totally killed me with the zillion assignments that I had to do, leaving me no time to pursue leisure activities like updating my stories. I figured I be fine during summer vacation, but I had to work at a summer camp for six weeks and that zapped all of my time. So I finally get home and then my laptop gets a virus and I lose ALL my stories. I was so upset that I couldn't get any motivation to write, because all of the planning I had done was gone. It wasn't until a week ago that I finally decided to pick up where I left off, and I just started writing. I'm gonna skip the graduation and probably move on to them actually going to Columbia in the next chapter. Also, check out my newest story "A Chance Meeting" which is probably going to be a twoshot.  
---

The car ride was devoid of any conversation except Jack giving his father directions to Kate's mother's house–or what was left of it, anyway. His mother sat quietly in the front seat, and he wondered if she even really wanted to be here. Jack himself had no doubts about his own presence. Kate needed him, now more than ever. There had been no words exchanged between the two of them for much of the ride. Still wrapped in his jacket, Kate pulled it tightly around her and shivered from the chill of the air conditioning. She stuck her hands in the pockets, and he saw her brow crease into a frown, as she pulled the ring he had given her–and she had given back–from the pocket slowly, holding it tightly in a fist.

"It wasn't hers," he whispered into her ear. "I bought it with my graduation money the night before. It's just yours. You can keep it, even if you still don't want to–"

She put a finger over his lips, silencing him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it for a few moments, before releasing it as a dry sob. He watched her open her palm, take the ring, and put it back on her finger.

---

When they arrived, the fire department was still there, along with the police and an ambulance. When Kate emerged from the SUV, her mother ran straight over to her, sobbing, and embracing her like she never wanted to let go. 

"Hi, Mom," Kate managed. Jack stood back with his father near the car, his hands in his jeans pockets, feeling suddenly very awkward and somewhat useless.

"Oh, Katie, Katie," her mother cried, clutching her daughter tightly. "I was so worried. When they called, I thought you were here, and I was so afraid."

"I'm fine, Mom." Kate pulled away from her mother, and Jack could see that her face was devoid of emotion. "Did they save anything?"

He watched them talking in low voices for a moment, watched her mother shake her head, and watch Kate's shoulders visibly sag. Her mother tried to pull her into another hug, but Kate pulled away from her mother and moved over to where Sam was standing, a few feet away, watching. Kate moved into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder, and Jack could clearly hear the audible sounds of her crying, but not the words she shared between the man she thought for years was her real father. Jack felt his own father's hand on his shoulder. "Son, I know you want to stay, but I think it's time we were getting back home."

Jack pulled back, determined. "She needs me, Dad. I can't leave her."

"She's with her parents, son. There's nothing you can do anymore. Come on, let's go home."

Jack pulled out of his father's grasp and made his way over to where Kate stood. She looked up at him as he came over, and let her hand slip into his.

"Jack, I want to thank you for taking care of my daughter." Sam said, putting a hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack smiled and nodded.

"I'll always take care of her, sir. I love her more than anything."

He felt Kate's grip on his hand tighten, and he smiled to himself.

"Daddy?" Kate was looking at her father apprehensively. "What are they going to do about Wayne? And Mom? The house?"

Sam glanced up at the pile of charred remains of what was once a house. He stared at it a moment, then looked over at where Kate's mother was standing, wrapped in a blanket, talking to a police officer.

"You and your mother are coming to live with me for a while. I'm going to let you stay at my house while I'm in Germany. Anything your mother needs to get back on her feet."

"Oh. Okay." Kate said, sounding unsure as she kept her eyes on the house. "Do they know what happened for sure? Some cops came to Jack's house before we left. They were trying to arrest me, Daddy. I didn't–"

Sam shook his head. "Your mother thought–"

Kate let go of Jack's hand abruptly and took a step forward. "What?! She...she blamed me for this?"

"Kate, she's always known you hated Wayne," Sam said with contempt. "She accused me of killing him too."

"Why would you want to kill Wayne, Daddy?" Kate said, crossing her arms in front of her and staring at Sam questioningly.

Sam shook his head. "Your mother knows that I don't like him either. First suspect is always the jealous ex-husband."

"Second suspect is always the abused stepdaughter," Kate said, staring at the ground, then raising her head to look Sam in the eye. "I didn't kill him, Daddy. I was at Jack's house the whole time."

Sam regarded her for a moment, his eyes narrowed just a little, before nodding. "I know you didn't, Katie."

He held a hand out to her and she moved in to hug him again. Once again, Jack was amazed at how easy it was for her to lie to people. How she could look the man who had raised her for her entire life, in the eye and lie about something like this. But Jack was keeping his mouth shut. He knew that Kate was guilty, but nothing in the world could make him reveal that information to anyone. He thought for a moment about his mother, and wondered if she would betray Kate to the authorities. It was no secret that she wanted better for Jack, but Jack swore to himself at that moment that if his mother turned Kate in, he would never forgive her, nor his father, and he would stay beside Kate and support her no matter what.

For the first time since the evening's events had begun, the thought suddenly struck Jack that tomorrow was their graduation ceremony, and that they had to be up early the next morning for the rehearsal. When he mentioned this to Kate, a look of horror filled her face.

"I can't walk, Jack. Not in front of all those people, not after this, I can't do it. You go. Go, and do your speech. I just can't be a part of that, it's too much. I need to be with my dad."

"Katie," Sam said, giving her a half-smile. "You worked for all these years to not walk with your class? I raised you to be a smart kid. When your mother told me she was–that she was going to have you, I knew there would be four days that I most looked forward to before I died: the day I walk you down the aisle, the day I can hold my first grandchild, and the day you graduate from high school. I am not missing it for the world."

"Daddy, you said four days. That was three."

Sam shook his head, and Jack could see the way his eyes were glistening that he was close to tears. "Katie, the first day was the day I first held you in my arms, and you–you opened your eyes and you looked at me, and you held on to my thumb with your little fingers. I knew from that moment that I loved you more than life itself, and I would do anything for you. You are my daughter, and I love you. And you will walk tomorrow evening, if I have to drag you there. And don't you start crying, you hear me? You know what I always say about that."

"A soldier's daughter never cries. I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm–I can't" Kate sobbed, embracing her father for the third time, unable to contain her tears. Jack felt like an intruder, and he wondered for a moment if he should have gone when his father told him to. He looked around the place, blinking at the brightness from the flashing lights of the police car and fire trucks. He caught sight of his father, still leaning against the car, looking more than irritated. Jack didn't want to face his father's wrath from what had happened earlier at home. Feeling intrusive, he moved up to where Sam and Kate stood, no longer embracing.

"Kate? My dad–it's late. I have to get going. I'll drop your stuff of at your dad's tomorrow, okay?"

"Actually, Jack," Sam said softly, his arm protectively around his daughter's shoulders. "If your parents have no objections, I'd like Katie to stay the night with you. I have some things to do here before your graduation. Dealing with Diane, and Wayne's body and all that, and I don't want Katie involved with all of the police questioning. She'll be alright at your house."

Jack shook his head. "My parents won't mind. Not after all this."

Sam left the two of them to go verify it with Jack's father. Kate stood, looking after him, her arms crossed protectively around her.

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?" Jack asked, watching her. She didn't turn to look at him.

"I don't want him to think I'm a murderer. I know that he knows I'm Wayne's daughter, how could he not? But he doesn't know that I know, and I want to keep it that way. I still want to think that I have some of his goodness in me."

Jack shrugged, feeling like her explanation was inadequate, but saying nothing. He'd had enough of this whole evening's events, and all he wanted was to go home and go to bed. As they said their good-byes to Kate's parents and got back into the SUV, a part of him regretted saying Kate could stay the night. He wanted to be alone to think things over. He wasn't sure how much she actually needed him. It was, of course, no great loss to Kate now that Wayne was dead, and she could just as easily be staying with Sam. He glanced at her, sitting curled up against the door, staring wistfully out the window. There was so much about her that he knew...and so much he didn't. He knew she'd moved to Los Angeles when she was nine with Sam and Diane, and that a year later, her parents divorced and three months after that, her mother married Wayne Jansen. Even then, Jack had been attracted to the knees-and-elbows ten-year-old Kate, although in a different way then. She was the biggest tomboy he'd ever known, and on her first day of school, she'd punched him in the face. They were inseperable from that moment on, climbing trees and scraping their knees together, though it was a while before Jack could invite her over his house for anything other than the annual birthday party, the only time his parents didn't scrutinze his friends because he invited the entire class. When his parties got smaller in middle school, and even though he and Kate only shared a single class their three years there (home ec, of all things. They were partners in the egg baby project) she was still invited. By high school, Jack was already heading into advanced classes, while Kate plodded along the general route. Each year, for electives, they took one class of Kate's choice and one of Jack's. For two months prior to entering high school, they argued viciously over German (Kate) or Latin (Jack) but in the end decided to take French.

"More romantic," Kate had said, resting her head against his shoulder. No feelings of love, even in the summer of fourteen. He only figured out that he was in love with his best friend the next year, when she suddenly hit puberty. Suddenly, he noticed that her long legs were no longer too big for her body, that the baby fat had all but disappeared, replaced by female curves. Compared to other girls, she didn't have much of a chest, but when you're fifteen, even something is better than nothing. When she smiled at him, his heart quickened a pace, and when she shoved him playfully, his skin tingled where she touched...

---  
Jack nearly jumped, not realizing that the car had stopped and his father was standing impatiently at the front door, waiting for him to get out of the car so he could lock it. Kate's door was open, and her fingers were resting lightly on his wrist. There was a concerned look in her eye that twinkled there for a moment, and was gone when he grinned and shook his head.

"Sorry, I guess I'm tired." She released his arm and scooted out of the car, and he followed, shutting his door, hearing the beeping as his father remote locked it and didn't say a word as they entered the house, going up the stairs and into his own study, shutting the door behind him.

Jack turned on the house alarm then motioned for Kate to follow him up the stairs. Halfway up, her hand slipped into his and he made no move to let it go until they were safe inside his bedroom, the door locked behind them.

It had been Jack's plan to go to bed as soon as they got home, maybe talk about things with Kate, but she had other things in mind. The moment the door closed, she dropped her bag on the floor and kissed him, hard. It threw him off for a moment, but he responded to her advances, an arm around her waist to steady her. She just needs comforting, he told himself, but the fact that her hands were now tugging his shirt up told him otherwise. He put his hands on hers to stop her, looking into her eyes, questioning.

"Please, Jack. I need to get over this. I need to forget what it was like."

He knew they shouldn't be doing this, not after what had happened to her today, but who was he to argue with a woman possessed. And how could resist her as they fell onto the bed, her dark curly hair grazing his chest as she crawled on top of him and kissed him, pressing her tongue between his lips and her hand beneath his boxers, which were soon joined the rest of their clothes

"Thank heaven for silent bed frames," he murmured as he slipped into her. He wasn't fully aware that it was over, but suddenly it was, and he felt nothing. That had never happened with them before, and he lay there, Kate silent on top of him, unsure what to do or say, until her lips met his again, and he turned them so she was underneath, hoping for better results. It went better, and they were soon stifling moans against each other's lips.

"God, Kate, you're so beautiful," he gasped. Her response was not something he anticipated. She pushed at him, and began to cry.

He pulled out of her, immediately alarmed, and reached down to pull his boxers on, looking at her, concerned. "What? Kate, what's wrong?"

"That's what he told me," she said, whimpering and tugging the blanket around her naked body, as if she was ashamed of him to look at her.

"Oh," he realized, not needing to even ask who "he" was. "I'm sorry, Kate. I just–you are beautiful. I can't help it. I just didn't mean it like that. Like he did."

She turned, so that her back was facing him and said nothing. Hurt, Jack sat down on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, wishing he could invent a time machine that would take him back to before their fight, to fix things, erase that. Maybe it was all his fault she'd been raped. Maybe...

She shifted, pulling the blanket tighter around her as she sat up, and leaned over to kiss his ear gently.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

He wanted to tell her that he was at his wits end with her, that he couldn't accept her apology, but when he turned to look at her, the look in her eyes caught him off guard. He had never seen her look so sad, so helpless, so lost. Her gaze was empty, but not in the cold way, in a way that told him that she needed him now, more than ever, and refusing her might kill her. He put his arms around her and held her until he felt her tears running down his back. He pulled away a little to look at her face.

"You didn't need that, Kate." He told her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You didn't need me to have sex with you to make it better. You just need me to hold you, and then you'll know I'm here, and I'll always be here and I'll always love you, no matter what."

He kissed her forehead and took his shirt from the floor, offering it to her. She put it on and they lay down together on the mattress, him with his arms around her tightly and protectively, knowing that it would be a long time before he ever let go.


End file.
